


Making up for Lost Time

by Darkestwolfx



Series: TAG episode tags [3]
Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Episode Tag, Family moments, Gen, Multiple episode references, Series Conclusion, the long reach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:02:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22961371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkestwolfx/pseuds/Darkestwolfx
Summary: Jeff was ecstatic to be home. Who wouldn’t be? He couldn’t help wondering though, if those eight years were eight years too long; for he’s missed so much… where do I fit into this picture now? When he’d lost so much time…
Relationships: Tracy Family - Relationship
Series: TAG episode tags [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1645558
Comments: 3
Kudos: 30





	Making up for Lost Time

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry! I meant to get this up Thursday so that I could finish writing the list of episode tags I want to do for ‘The Long Reach’ and this was not having any of it! So this was meant to be a nice, small little conversation about returning home and missing important moments. No. Every time I went back to re-read a section, something else sprung forth until this was incorporating so much from my previous episode tags and from the ones I want to write and… it really just had a mind of its own.
> 
> I’m glad it turned out the way, but sometimes, the writer would like to be a little more in control of what her fingers are typing and not just being dragged along the for the ride.
> 
> But hey, I’m sure we’ve all had that moment, right? Please tell me I’m not the only one.
> 
> Any errors (annoying things they are) are my own. I am dyslexic, but I don’t use that as an excuse – if you find any, let me know and I will fix them. Sometimes other people’s eyes see them better than I do, and after all the hours that this has run away with me… (I think I’ve proof-read about five versions)… my eyes are very tired!
> 
> Lastly, big big massive thank you to all my readers, old and new. We’ve all been on a journey together with this series (and I know I’ve dipped in and out of being around), but I want you all to know how much your support means to me – every favourite, follow, review etc, they all inspire me and mean a lot to me. I truly believe as long as I have all of you, I will find inspiration from somewhere, so this one is for every reader of mine out there. So Thank You! and as a bit of advice; try not to leave yourselves time to catch up on – speaking from experience, I know it is a tricky task that time doesn’t like to allow.
> 
> Full list of episodes I’ve made reference to is at the end of this work, but take it that there are spoilers for all of the series’.

Jeff was ecstatic to be home. Who _wouldn’t_ be?

After eight years on a little planetoid out in the big, wide, empty vacuum of space, all on his lonesome, being back on Earth felt right. It was his home and it was where he belonged. Or where he knew he’d once belonged. Before, _before_ those lost years he would never have questioned it, not once, never have even dreamt of doing so.

But watching his boys… watching them rescue him, hold their own and think on their feet… He remembered fondly the first days of IR. The first days his boys had come out with him, Scott and John so pleased to have earned their hats- But every decision, every moment there was still a look to him, a nod of _is this right?_ Or _should we do this?_ Or _any better ideas?_ There was still something they looked to him for, something they needed from him – even if that was swift affirmation of their respective ideas.

It might have been small, but it was something. Someone only he could do. His job, his responsibility for them, _to_ them.

He supposed that probably hadn’t changed.

But hell how it felt like it as he laid there like a man twice his age, watching his little boys – no longer so little and young and unsure – do it all, _on their own._

They’d learned how to do it all whilst he was gone – to hold themselves up and affirm their own decisions. To believe in themselves like parents were meant to infuse, to look after each other with their own abilities and skills. They’d become in many ways, the men he always wished they would be.

Only he’d planned to be around to _see_ that happen with his own eyes.

Not that he wasn’t pleased with what he saw, but the fact remained that he couldn’t see into the past. He couldn’t easily go back and take a peak at all the moments he’d missed which explained that journey, explained where his boys all went off to…

They hadn’t _gone_ anywhere. He understood that really.

But it was hard to reconcile all the same.

And maybe that was the hardest part about coming home.

Not the waiting, or the rescue, or re-entry; not getting reacquainted with gravity, not even suffering his Mother’s fussing and cooking.

No, that wasn’t the hardest part.

Even seeing his boys grown up – that was hard, knowing he hadn’t been there: but it wasn’t _the_ hardest either, because they were still his sons and they were still the same boys he’d left at heart.

No, you want to know the hardest part?

It was _all_ the _same_.

The Island was exactly as he left and remembered it.

Well, that wasn’t _quite_ correct. But mostly. There wasn’t much change. It was just little things that were different, an odd plant pot moved here and there and a new oven for instance.

But most things were ultimately the same.

And deep down, that ached.

The pictures of his boys were still there – okay, Gordon and Alan’s were new. Virgil’s had been finished briefly before… They captured all of his boys so well.

Even the hangers were the same. Even the Thunderbirds.

Even his Mother, though she’d lost all the colour of her hair now. Once again, it was a little change, but nothing major. Oh no, she’d still acted much as Jeff had expected she would, fulfilling many of the scenarios he’d always dreamt up on his planetoid. She’d fussed, just as she always used to, and really coming from someone who had been just as adventurous in her youth as he was it seemed ironic. But she still did it, and in the exact same manner – she’d changed superficially, just as he knew (even without a mirror) he had, but not… not emotionally, not the things which made her _her_. She’d made him dinner (still a little… um, chargrilled?), and insisted on checking him over before, and after, and again come the morning. She’d recommended a dose of good, restful sleep in a proper bed too.

She was wise, and like Virgil had reminded him, always right, but still, just because someone was right wasn’t to say they were always listened to. And Jeff, grown and aged as he may now be, was still her son and still, at times, like a child disobeying their parents for no other reason than it being what children believe is their pleasure- _duty_ , to enact.

He was going to disobey her now.

Not out of a lack of respect or lack of love. It could never be for those reasons.

He was going to do it because there were stars in the sky – stars in constellations he recognised – and a moon – a lovely singular moon – and his five boys – real, not endless dreams of possibilities - and he was home after eight years, with so _so_ much to catch himself up on that it was painful – a deep aching, like a nail being dug into centre of your heart just as it can be scraped so agonisingly against glass. It was a form of torture really.

It was a form of torture to be home. To be standing here after all these years knowing you are home, you have everything back, nothing has gone away or been lost forever- but, as that may be, there was always the little reminder somewhere that eight years _had_ been lost.

He looked to his boys, he remembered their faces and then noticed the ways they’d changed. Eight years’ worth of age and knowledge he’d missed them gaining. There would always be that little reminder, every time he looked.

No, he couldn’t see much difference in the Island, in his home.

No. Nothing had really changed. Other than the fact _he’d_ been gone for eight years. _He_ was the anomaly here, not the Island, not his family: _him._ And knowing that, seeing that and finally bringing himself to understand it… well, he couldn’t help wondering, if those eight years were eight years too long; for he’s missed so much… _where do I fit into this picture now?_ When he’d lost so much time…

His Mother had basically ordered him to sleep, without so much saying it was an order – once again, _traditional_ , but Jeff didn’t feel like he could sleep. He felt too… not awake, not hyper, not jittery or anything like that, just… _Alive._ He felt alive. For real, for the first time in eight years.

His desk was the same too. It didn’t look like the boys had moved a thing. They could have. He wouldn’t have minded. Yet it was clear to him looking at it, that they would have minded.

 _They thought I wasn’t coming back,_ he had to remind himself.

For eight years, they had thought him dead. That was no small feet to recover from, no small amount of time to make up for. That was lost time, and a whole fat load of it.

He’d worked many, many miracles in his lifetime – he’d created the Thunderbirds and International Rescue, and he’d saved countless numbers of lives because of it. He’d gone (accidentally) where none had gone before on the first, experimental engine of its kind and lived to tell the tale. He’d survived eight years in rough, uncharted space.

He'd survived for this.

He'd ended up a very lucky man to have his boys. Not many sons would have done for their father what they did for him. Not many sons would have been able to, even if they wished to. Still, his boys were incredible.

This was testament to that, this very lounge; International Rescue and the Thunderbirds and the Island standing tall. They went forth every day and-

“Dad?”

He twisted around from staring at his desk, pulling himself back into the world. And there was one of the very fine living examples. It gave him great pleasure to see his sons as they were now, but also filled him with the deepest of remorse. He’d lost them, he knew. Not _them_ or their love and affections; he’d lost nothing of them really, he supposed, _not truly_. But he’d lost something of their journey’s, pieces he’d never see and always miss.

“Oh, Scott.”

His eldest son stared at him. It was after all, a long time since Scott had last looked upon him in this room.

“What are you doing up?”

The boot seemed very much on the wrong foot to him. _Isn’t that my line?_ Hmm, was, maybe, Scott at least was twenty-seven now. He could ask whatever questions he liked.

“The night’s still young.”

“Yeah, but I thought Grandma sent you to bed?”

He chuckled, not entirely sure at what but there was something in the use of that word. _‘Sent’_. Did any of them in this house really have any right to be sending orders anyone’s way? They were all far to evolved for that, all their own people now. Those days were long past, and yet still remained.

“She went to bed. She told me to-”

“But you disobeyed her? You know, Dad if Grandma doesn’t have your head, Virgil will.”

Apparently, his middle child had taken after his Grandmother whilst he’d been gone, as much as he had his Father back when he’d been here. It still intrigued Jeff, all these little things he was learning. It was just tid-bits of information, thrown to him here and there but they were the keys to everything.

“I know, son.”

Virgil may take the most after him, right down to their matching build, but he also took the most after his Grandmother in many ways, Jeff was seeing that now. Scott was right, he’d played a risky game. But it was worth it, feeling as he did now. He’d never have managed to sleep anyhow. It would have been a waste of precious time to try.

“Well, it’s your neck you’re risking.”

Hmm, although he seemed to remember everyone on their flight had been issued very similar orders.

“Hold on, young man, didn’t your Grandmother tell _you_ to sleep?”

“She _advised_ , Dad. Little bit more leeway to disobey.”

“Still sounds to me like you’re risking _your_ neck.”

It was Scott’s turn to laugh now it seemed.

“I’ve been risking my neck against her for the past eight years. I’ll survive.”

Yes. He would. Jeff supposed he knew better than anyone now how thick-skinned his boys were. More so than ever before. They’d all been tough enough cookies when he left, now- now they were probably feeling invincible. The same might not be said when Grandma skins them in the morning for this but… what could he say? They definitely did take after him. Right down to the blood and bone.

“Scott, if you _want_ hot chocolate at some point you’ll have to- Dad!”

Clearly his second child hadn’t been expecting him to still be up either. The stacks of blankets the red head had been carrying tumbling from his grip to the floor as he halted abruptly. Jeff supposed they all thought he’d gone to bed. After all, Mother’s orders.

He smiled again. “Hello John.”

“But I thought Grandma-”

“Short story, John: Dad’s being a rebel.”

“Oh.”

Good to know those two hadn’t really changed. They were still so attuned to each other. But still, he couldn’t have his eldest son going around spreading incorrect rumours.

“That makes it sound a far cry from what it is, Scott.”

“Yeah?” The eldest asked as he began to refold the blankets, John finally unfreezing and kneeling to help his brother swoop them up from the floor. “What is it then? A proper bed doesn’t seem like a descent prospect after all this time?”

“Of course it does.” But it would still be there in twenty-four, even forty-eight hours’ time. Sleeping could wait. He’d waited eight years to be here again, and none of that re-exploring could wait in his mind. He hadn’t survived, waiting for his boys, to sleep. “But there are more important things.”

“That argument won’t hold with Grandma, Dad.” John surmised as he stood back upon his feet, Scott stacking the blankets he’d picked up onto those the red head had now resumed holding. “You should know that better than anyone.”

“There’s nothing more important than sleep, boys.” Scott stated, his impression somewhat uncanny. John chuckled.

That was a sound Jeff had waited a long time for.

“Scott!”

“She’s asleep, John, I even checked, we’re fine.” The eldest was definitely a risk taker. _Still_. Jeff remembered the eldest always had been as a child. It really was good to know some things didn’t change. “Did you bring pillows too?”

“With what hands, Scott? There’s only so much I can pile up in front of me before I fall down the stairs. Besides, I remember you running off when I asked nicely. So. _You_ can get the pillows.”

“Uh, not f-”

“ _I’m_ making the hot chocolate. And _I’ll_ get the pillows, but it will take _me_ twice as long. Happy?”

And John was still inherently sensible and calm, a source of reason and logic. Scott nodded with grumbles of ‘stairs’ and ‘Grandma’s territory’. And it was then Jeff realised the factor he was skipping straight over in the equation his sons were offering him. Offering it to him like a stack of puzzle pieces on a kitchen table. Maybe they were waiting for him to take the bait. Maybe that was the point. It didn’t matter to him whether it was or wasn’t. He was intrigued enough to ask.

“Hang on, hot chocolate?”

John nodded.

“Like you used to make.”

“Oh.”

He was somewhat surprised the boys still kept that tradition up. It was one of the little things they’d done as a cure for sleepless nights. Just a little something, but something he expected to have vanished a long time ago. Although considering the lack of change amongst everything else, but he shouldn’t have held such expectations.

“You can’t sleep?”

Scott shook his head.

“No. We’re just choosing to sit up.”

And with that, the brunette was finally off, dashing up the stairs to the bedrooms with quick quiet steps. John, surprisingly, was heading out towards the pool.

For a moment, Jeff could only stand, stuck in the living room as though the answer was going to descend for him. Upon the Planetoid, that had often been the way, for it was only himself he had to discuss the possibilities with. So he thought it through, Scott and John were using their once tradition for sleepless night, for a night where they could have slept? Was he understanding that right? He was sure that was what he’d heard. But then, eight years had passed. The eldest pair were definitely old enough to do as they wished, who was he to waltz in and stop them? Who was he to be able to fill in the gaps between what once was and what now was? He was just a man who had been gone for eight years and missed every moment of that time.

There were going to be things which didn’t make sense to him; he’d settled himself with that on his darkest nights on the planetoid. Hell, he’d settled himself with that, somewhat, on the journey home. Gordon’s reassurances that Alan’s source of learning to fly was ‘natural talent’… they actually weren’t all that reassuring. He remembered what he used be like, flying on said natural talent, after all. It didn’t change the fact that the kid was quite good – _really good_ – and definitely hadn’t been able to fly a rocket when he left them, however much the youngest might have marvelled over them.

It was testament to how much he had missed.

“Dad?”

He half expected Scott to have returned, but the voice was a tone lighter. John. The spitting image of his mother with the moonlight illuminating his shadow.

He smiled. He didn’t really know what for. The fact he was still Dad to them? The fact he was home? He didn’t know and he didn’t know whether he cared or not either.

John motioned towards the kitchen.

“Do you remember how to make your old hot chocolate?”

Well, there hadn’t been hot chocolate on the planetoid, none but the ones he could conjure in dreams. And it had been eight years… but _remember_? Some things in life you never forgot, sometimes even the smallest of things.

“Oh, I think I can have a go at it, son.”

“Come on then.”

He followed John to the kitchen, picking his steps around the house. The layout was so familiar, but still the ground felt a little foreign to him. But once he was in the kitchen, John placing spoons and mugs in front of him by the kettle, the recipe and motions were all coming back to him. He used to do this in a flash with a practised ease that Scott and John would marvel over from either side of him.

There was less marvelling now, but John still watched him with glowing green eyes, to the point that he paused before grabbing the kettle as it announced it had finished boiling.

“What?”

John shook his head.

“Nothing. I was just thinking.”

“Anything worth a penny for voicing?”

John shook his head this time, but the smile didn’t waver. Jeff wondered if they’d been thinking the same. He filled the mugs with the steaming water before setting the kettle back upon its stand. Then, three more mugs appeared before him.

“You better make more.”

“Had I now?”

There was a limited choice as to who John could be expecting to join them, but still, Jeff had assumed there was no one else planning on coming.

“They’ll be down. Trust me.”

He wasn’t sure what that was meant to indicate, but he finished the three mugs he’d started making before mixing up another set. He assumed John knew his brothers better than he did at this time. Sad as that thought made him.

In that time, Scott reappeared too, heading into the kitchen with the smiles Jeff remembered lighting up that face almost constantly. He hadn’t seen the boy smile at all on that rescue – their reunion not counting. The eldest had been full of so much seriousness that Jeff would admit to a fear of having lost his boy altogether. Looking at the boy now, he wasn’t sure why he’d worried. Scott hadn’t gone anywhere.

“Pillows are down and out. Wait- Dad’s making the hot chocolate?”

John smiled. And Jeff knew that smile. It was John’s tactical victory look. And this time around, it was accompanied with the spaceman taking up a mug of the freshly made drink. _Ahh,_ so his little starman had planned to get him to make the drinks from the moment he saw he was awake. _Clever John, very clever._ Saving himself all that leg work to get the extra pillows as well, _tactical indeed_.

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Lazy b-”

It was like a tripwire going off inside his mind, still wary that his youngest sons were too young to hear such words.

“Language.”

“Dad! I’m too old for that now.”

Oh yes. If Scott was twenty-seven… well, then all the boys had aged along with him.

 _Were too young_ ; it was now the optimum point.

But Scott didn’t make to finish his previous sentence, all the same. Instead, the eldest came to stand by his left flank, and suddenly the image of the boy’s youth was complete. Jeff liked it. This gander down memory lane. The brunette reached forward for a steaming mug too.

“Are they awake?” John asked.

“Alan’s in Gordon’s room I reckon and Virgil’s in the studio.”

“They’re awake then?”

“Oh, yeah! Trying to avoid waking Grandma like us.”

Jeff assumed that last prompt was for him. He wasn’t aware Virgil had a ‘studio’. Last he knew the beloved easel had lived in the living room and the black-haired boy’s sketchbook had travelled around the house with him. Where the heck was this so-called studio meant to be? And what made John so convinced the younger three would even realise to come down without being called? Jeff knew his boys had always been incredibly in sync, but still, they weren’t psychic.

Unless of course there was a legitimate possibility that Brains had created a way for them to be. And Jeff wouldn’t put that past the genius’ remit. Thunderbird Two went into space and held up her own, after all, that surely made Brains capable of nearly anything. Building a time-machine might be next on Jeff’s list of that was the case.

Still, all of it intrigued him, all these puzzle pieces, right back to the pillows and blankets which began it all. Ultimately though, it was how he was going to get himself back into the conversation. The boys would never do it deliberately, they probably didn’t even realise they were doing it. He’d been out of the loop for so long, it was only to be expected that it would take time to reintroduce him.

This family had learned to cope without him.

“Well, there you are.” He proclaimed, setting the kettle down as the three additional drinks were completed before claiming one as his own. He put in the hard work to make them after all, and it had been a long, _long_ time since he last enjoyed Tracy family hot chocolate. “Now, where are you two off to then? With all those pillows and blankets?”

There was a glimmer of mischief in Scott’s blue eyes, like the young mirrors of Jeff’s own. And really, to think his eldest had always wondered where Gordon got his mischievous ways from? _Ha,_ he should have been looking at himself all these years.

“John, do you think it’s any of Dad’s business where we’re off to?”

“I don’t know, Scott. He _is_ our Dad.”

“Yes, but _we’re_ grown-ups.”

Oh, this was pulling his arm he was sure. Scott seemed to rather like being his own man. Or was that a new thing because of his return? Jeff would almost love to be able to see what his sons had been like those years without him, to know if now – if his return – was making any difference at all. Well, it was decided, that was the next magic ability he sought then: to know what he should or shouldn’t say, the waiting traps where he could possibly put his foot in it. If there was a disjointed cog tumbling along in the wheel here, it wasn’t his boys, but him.

“Speak for yourself.” John threw back. “Oh wait, you can’t, because you haven’t actually grown up!”

“Ha, ha.” Scott groaned, incredibly sarcastically before bursting into hysterics. Ok… and he was lost. Maybe it was best if he just excused himself from this… moment? And went peacefully back to his internal deliberations. Yes, maybe that was for the best.

“I’ll just take my hot chocolate then.”

John joining in the laughter at his retreating back didn’t help.

“Dad, stop.” He paused, before feeling decidedly like he’d been had by the looks on those faces. “Sorry, but your face was priceless!”

“It was, but it was a mean joke all the same, Scott.”

“You joined in. You didn’t have to.”

John shrugged a shoulder, and took a sip of hot chocolate. An agreement of sorts, he could see. A moment passed whilst the red head drank said drink and Scott began rummaging through the cupboard above the kettle.

Jeff stayed put, but he still wasn’t quite saw where he fit in to this jolly routine for now. They were his boys, and it wasn’t hard to communicate with them, or to read every expression that crossed their faces, to recognise every action for what it silently meant – even after all this time. But he wasn’t sure what he _should_ say now. It wasn’t that he couldn’t say anything, just that he wasn’t sure what was best. Scott and John had built up a repertoire and seemingly knew where they were going with it. He was never the type to just be taken along for the ride, but maybe for once that was his best course of action. At least until he knew how solid the ground he stood upon was.

Finally, just when Jeff had been thinking nothing else was going to be said… “Dad, of course it’s your business. Scott’s just got his childish head on tonight.”

There was a glare there, but Jeff could tell – almost as well as he gathered his eldest could – that there was no heat behind it. This time.

“Speaking like you don’t, John!” His eldest rebuffed, shutting the cupboard with a gleeful smirk. And a huge bag of… extra-large, family sized marshmallows. Did he need to get his sight checked? Or was this- yes, this _was_. Scott was holding a kilogram of marshmallows.

John’s shoulders sagged, his greens eyes widening.

Jeff had a feeling it was going to be quite the humorous exchange.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No, Scott!”

“I want some.”

“And if Gordon and Alan come down, so will they. They knew you moved them to the cupboards they couldn’t reach ages ago.”

“And?”

“ _And_ they’ll never sleep!”

“Eh. What’s it matter?”

John looked like he might have had something to say to that, but remained silent instead, heading for the decking doors with a shake of his head.

“Come on, Dad.”

 _Him?_ He was the only Dad the boys could be referring too after all, the only one they had. Would ever have. He just hadn’t realised he was invited in on this (whatever _this_ was), save for making the famed hot drinks. It seemed he’d thought wrong. Maybe he’d underestimated how keen the boys would be to have their old man involved.

Scott motioned that he should follow too, so he headed out of the kitchen with his sons and out onto the moonlit decking by the pool. The moon cast all sorts of shapes over the rippling water. A group of deck chairs had been pulled together on one side – the side which would face the sunrise, if he recalled correctly, and the world hadn’t conveniently changed its axis in his absence. Upon them, the blankets and pillows had been ceremoniously and unceremoniously dropped respectively.

Scott and John seemed to have a practised ease at this as they set their mugs down on the little side table by the pool. Scott then walked back towards the house and Jeff wondered what had been forgotten before lots of little lights flickered to life. They lived around the pool and the decking’s edge and varied in colour, each with just enough of a glow to provide comforting, non-intrusive light.

It was one of the first real things he was looking at here which had really changed.

“Well, these are new.”

“Brains.” Scott answered around a mouthful of marshmallow. He went to open his mouth to admonish the boy for it- but that wasn’t his jurisdiction anymore, was it? Still, his eldest looked like he was waiting for it.

John, on the other hand, seemed to have no such qualms.

“Scott, stop that! You really have regressed into a child in the past couple hours.”

The brunette shrugged, throwing another couple giant marshmallows into his mouth. “Wat? h-I’m ating ‘em be-ore Goron und-”

“Dad, you _can_ tell him off for _that_!”

Oh, _can I now?_ There was nothing like being told you could tell your own sons off! At the same time, he supposed it was exactly what he’d been waiting for. Permission. Something to help him acknowledge what was right still, where the line might have moved to.

“Scott, stop talking with your mouth full of marshmallows.”

“Orry…” There was a moment of chewing and swallowing. “Sorry Dad.”

Too right. The boys may be grown up, but John was right. That _had_ felt like the right thing for him to do. Goodness knew he’d wanted to. Note to self then, don’t stop yourself. Maybe the boys did just want him to play along like nothing had happened. It seemed that imaginary line hadn’t moved, so far anyhow, as much as he thought. He was second guessing it all for seemingly no supported reason.

“So… what is all this?”

“This,” Thankfully said explanation was sans marshmallows, third times the charm and all, “Is the newly improved pool. You see John and I took to sitting out here, usually at night because that’s one of our quietest times in recent months and it was too dark to see when there wasn’t any moon-”

“And _someone_ had stupidly turned the lounge lights off.”

“John, I’m still telling you, that wasn’t me.”

“Well it wasn’t _me_ , because I remember I was carrying the hot chocolates out and I’m not skilled enough _yet_ to have done it with my toes.”

“It wasn’t _me_!” Scott sighed. “But still, Dad, you get the drift; without lights, it was dark.”

“Try pitch black.”

“Dark is fine John, we’re not writing a novel.”

“Virgil probably could have.”

“Well he didn’t.”

“He did make a rather accurate painting of it though.”

“Of _what_?” He enquired. He wasn’t sure he was following the jumps anymore. And he had a feeling they were taking a little detour around the story of the light’s beginnings.

Scott shifted for a moment, like they were at the starts of something conspiratorial. He remembered that look from when the boys were younger too.

“I thought we were never mentioning that again?”

“You mean until Gordon saves up enough money to pay Virgil what he wants for it.”

“Well yeah, because that day will be a disaster-”

“Boys.” Instantly the conversation stopped, and pairs of blue and green eyes landed upon him. He was very confused now. But enjoying himself regardless. “What does Virgil have a painting of that Gordon wants to get his hands on? Explain it all to your old man properly.”

Scott sighed, and picked up his tale with what Jeff hoped was precision.

“So, that night that someone-”

“ _You_.”

“-turned the lounge lights off, making it dark-”

“Pitch black.”

“-John and I _may_ have _-_ ”

“ _Did_!”

“-fallen into the pool.”

 _Fallen into the pool._ They were the words he just heard come out of his eldest’s mouth, clear as day.

“You what?”

“We were aiming for the door, obviously.”

“Well Scott, that’s just bad aim.”

“I know, Dad.”

“Never aim for a door, son. It won’t move for you.”

John found that very entertaining, for the split-second Scott allowed.

“Hey, you’re involved in this too!”

“Yes, but I didn’t use your poor choice of words.”

Scott sighed, _again_. Jeff couldn’t remember him doing quite so much of that before either. Was it one of those things which came with age? He couldn’t remember.

“Can we just move on, please?”

He thought he’d take pity on his eldest. Just this once. Just because he’d been gone for so long.

“Ok, son, carry on.”

“So in light of… missing the door…” That was one way to put it. “John and I spoke to Brains and he did this.”

And _this,_ was impressive. It was a nice touch, not too flashy either: beauty in simplicity. It was just enough, nothing too much, but it brightened the place up considerably.

He nodded. “I like it.”

“Good.”

And then he laughed.

“What?”

Laughed like he hadn’t in years, even with his eldest’s confusion. He’d missed the opportunities like this, the chances to enjoy the moments that mattered. He’d never really laughed on his planetoid either; there hadn’t seemed much cause. And now, all that time he’d been up there, he’d been missing moments like this – like two of his sons falling into the pool in the pitch black. Heck that must have been a priceless moment. He still wasn’t quite sure where Virgil and this painting came into it, but he would for certain. He wasn’t missing any more moments like this.

“I think it’s pretty obvious, Scott.”

“Dad, it’s _not_ funny.”

“I’m sorry son, but how long have you two lived here? You _walked_ into the pool?”

“It wasn’t like that!” Scott insisted, while at the same time the red head pointed towards the eldest.

“I still blame him.”

“John! I didn’t make you walk into the pool.”

“No, but _you_ led the way.”

“ _You_ followed.”

“And _you_ turned the lights off!”

“Once again, _not I._ ”

It seemed his sons were still good at looping round arguments, at holding onto their grudges and bringing them back to the surface in the best of ways. They were still the children he knew deep down.

“Alright boys. What I want to know is how Virgil made a painting about it?”

“He arrived at an opportune moment… finding myself and John attempting to get out of said pool and back into the house unnoticed.”

“Which obviously didn’t happen if Virgil saw you.”

“He was in the kitchen.”

“I see.”

“No, Dad.” John corrected. “You don’t _see_. Virgil drives a hard bargain when he wants to.”

“Oh does he now…” Jeff wondered where that streak had come from. He probably didn’t have to look too far once again.

“Cheeky sod, locked us out.”

“It was quite funny.”

“No it wasn’t! And I don’t remember you laughing at the time, John.”

“Well, no, not then maybe, but looking back-”

“It will never be funny. It is horrifying! My younger brothers should not have means to use against me.”

“Alan’s had them his _entire_ life; it’s called puppy eyes.”

“Means other than those they are born with. Happy?”

John nodded and took another long sip of his hot chocolate. Scott sighed.

“So Dad. There you have it.”

“Why thank you.” He did rather like that story, and he wasn’t planning on forgetting it in a hurry. That and he had plenty of money saved up, likely unused since his ‘death’. He was planning on asking Virgil what price he wanted for that painting his eldest had mentioned… don’t mistake him, he'd pay honestly for it. “I’m still struggling with the connection of sitting out here, and the blankets and the pillows?”

“Sleepless nights kind of turned into a down time routine instead.” John replied, finally grabbing a blanket and chucking it over his shoulders. “It just worked.”

“And you’ve chosen tonight because..?”

Scott shrugged this time, an action Jeff couldn’t remember the boy doing much when he was younger. He must have taken it from John, because John had always done that.

“Because we’re adults and we wanted to and we can, so, why not?”

Yes. Yes he supposed that was so.

“Fair enough I suppose.”

“And as you’re up anyway, I thought you might as well join us. It didn’t seem like you had plans to go to sleep.”

He didn’t.

This seemed like a far better alternative.

“I’m very pleased to join you.”

“Good.” Scott answered, sitting himself down on Jeff’s other side, chucking a pillow behind his head before reaching for his marshmallows. Which John promptly reached over and confiscated. “Not fair!”

“You’ve already had nearly half the bag!”

“There’s four more in the cupboard.” Scott snatched it back and Jeff felt a little like piggy in the middle between two very grown up nine-year-olds. That wasn’t so obviously, yet that was certainly how it felt.

“So…” He assumed the boys wouldn’t mind him striking up conversation. ‘When do we usually get around to-”

“ _You_ started. Without. _Me?_ ”

Forget his question.

Obviously his second child’s instincts had been on point for he knew that voice. The voice of a child who had so often been stuck in his music and artwork and rushed out to the table later than his brothers.

“Hot chocolate is in the kitchen.” John called over to the middle child whose face promptly lit up as he dashed off.

“Be careful-”

But Virgil was already long gone from view.

“Hmm.” _No changes at all._ “He never did wait for me to finish my warnings.”

“At least he heeded them.” John reminded, quite right, of course, “Unlike Gordon.”

Jeff could remember many of those instances, _thank you, John_. Gordon had always been a little reckless, thinking he could do everything his older brothers could do. And whilst they’d done their best to set an example, even the simplest of things would catch Gordon’s eye. Like trying to ride a bike without stabilisers at the age of four. Luckily the tumble he’d taken in their backyard was relatively slight with his brothers rallying around as well to help him up. Regardless, it had only been the first of many instances to come in which the seafaring boy believed he knew best.

Jeff did know, even after all these years, that Gordon fared better in water, just as John did in space. The pair of them were opposites in many ways, except for their shared lack of agreement with gravity – even if the spectrum was far and wide between.

It took what seemed like seconds for Virgil to come running back into view with his hot chocolate, taking a sip before promptly halting.

“Who made this?”

John pointed to him. “I bequeath my title willingly.”

“Yeah, sorry John.”

“I’m not offended.”

Jeff wondered whether he should ask on that one, or just assume that it meant his hot chocolate was better than John’s. Virgil headed out to join them, steering a deck chair around before sitting at John’s side, scooping up a waffle-effect blanket and a thick, fluffy pillow.

“You shouldn’t be. _You_ on the other hand…” This is where Jeff realised his eldest was receiving quite the heated glare. To which Scott held his hands up to.

“I know! I know…”

But he didn’t, and Virgil seemed to catch onto that.

“Dad, _he_ does _not_ know how to make hot chocolate.”

“No?”

Scott seemed to shrink away. Another first.

“No.” John and Virgil chorused, before the youngest continued. “He served us sludge. Like the coffee you used to drink.”

He used to think the coffee he drunk was quite high-class caffeine, but hey. He’d gone without it for eight years. Maybe he was remembering wrong. The hot chocolate hadn’t changed though, even though he’d been out of practise making it… it was one of those skills he supposed, something so engrained it came back within seconds – like riding a bike, his father had always said. Still, he’d have to try some when he could. But saying that, there seemed to be a lack of coffee around the house.

 _Should I ask?_ Was the next thought. Maybe there was a reason for the lack of brown beans, or maybe he was the only Tracy to drink it. He thought that unlikely, even if Lady Penelope might have influenced the boys with London tea. He was sure his Mother would have been the easiest of them all to win over.

“I used to quite like my coffee.”

“So did Scott. I think that was the problem.”

“Coffee does not ruin your sense of taste, Virgil.”

“It did for you!”

“How many times have I told you it’s not a valid reason. Even John knows that and he knows science.”

John stayed out of that one. _Probably for the best._

“We’re not talking about science though, Scott.”

“We sort of are.”

“No, we’re-”

“Boys, please, I didn’t come back here to hear you bickering.”

“They’re doing it in good nature.” John added, reaching forward to grab himself a pillow. “But still, it’s annoying.”

“This is why John stays up there most of the time.” Virgil informed him. John shook his head, but Scott seemed to find it an amusing point. “It keeps him safe from gravity and the legendary trickster, _and_ the noise.”

“Don’t forget the cookies, Virgil.”

“Don’t start on the cookies might be a better one.” Scott suggested, wisely, Jeff thought. Mother hadn’t tried to serve him cookies tonight, instead opting for healthier, more filling choices. But he had no ignorance to the fact that soon there would be a plate full shoved his way, all of them with their own charred edges and burnt middles. Yes, not starting on the subject of them was a much better option.

“This is why I keep a stack of foods Grandma doesn’t know about.” Scott declared before happily shoving another marshmallow into his mouth. Virgil’s eyes widened at the sight of them before he dug his hand into bag and pulled out a treat for himself. John shook his head at the pair of them, before being far more civilised in obtaining his own food. He simply held his hand out and the eldest gave in and past him a handful.

That look of victory reappeared. Jeff had a feeling for all Scott said about hating his brothers having something to hold over him… well, John definitely had something. The red head had never been manipulative either, so Jeff would hazard a guess it was simply tactical knowledge. Or maybe the skill of replicating his hot chocolates… he’d have plenty of time to figure it all out, he hoped. He hadn’t come all the way back to Earth to die – not just yet anyhow.

“Dad?”

He’d never really been one for marshmallows. He wasn’t sure where the boys had got a taste for those from either. But he held his hand out all the same.

“Go on then.”

He might as well push the boat out considering he’d made it back.

“Well would you look at that?”

Was that trouble he could hear? It sounded distinctly possible.

“Yeah… to think, they started without us.” And that was Alan. His voice had aged slightly, but it still held the same childhood tones he recalled clearly. It wasn’t hard to remember these things; he’d played them over for years on end, after all, keeping him going.

“They’ll be no peace now the terrors are here.” Virgil proclaimed and John merely groaned.

“We found the hot chocolates, you-”

“We never tried to hide them.” Scott voiced, decisively. It almost sounded like one of those tones he used to take… Maybe the boys had remembered more about him than he’d expected. “You just took ages to find them.”

“It wasn’t like we forgot you or anything.” John reminded. “Virgil didn’t complain.”

“Much.” The middle child added.

It was true Jeff supposed. Truth was though, the youngest pair were here now, and all the trouble they would bring. Not that he thought he’d mind that. He’d lived on quite a quiet planetoid, for most of its years.

A little bit of noise might not do them any harm.

“So what are we doing?”

“Yeah, what’s all this that we weren’t invited to?”

“You were invited.” John corrected with ease. “We just knew you’d shout about it.”

“You already are.” Scott agreed. “Don’t make waking Grandma a thing. That’s why we waited for you to catch on.”

“Such a mean trick.” Gordon grumbled. That was something he’d always been good at. And Alan was gulping down his hot chocolate like there might not be a tomorrow.

“But at least they made us hot chocolate!”

“Still doesn’t answer the question, Alan. What is all this? Dad?”

He shrugged. “Don’t go looking at me son. I’ve been invited too. Your brothers are leading this one.”

“I rather think it could get interesting,” Virgil began, “Considering all the options, right?”

Gordon and Alan shared mirroring expressions.

“What?”

“Is that poetry.”

Scott, on the other hand, shook his head. “Don’t start, Virgil.” And with that alone Jeff had an idea as to exactly what was being referenced.

The eldest threw another marshmallow into this mouth.

“Oh! Marshmallows!” Gordon dived forward with Alan hot on his tail. Scott leapt up with speed Jeff hadn’t expected from his out of the sky.

“No!”

“Seriously? You’ve been hiding them for ages.”

“I warned you.” John stated, green eyes gleaming again. “Remember, I warned you.”

Scott huffed and dropped the bag of marshmallows into Gordon’s hands. The aquanauts face lit up with glee as he reached in and started stuffing his face with them, much as the eldest had earlier. The brunette chose this point to disappear back into the house, not even daring to look over his shoulder at the squabbling. Alan reached over, trying to grab some for himself, but the elder blonde continually tried to push him away. Jeff wondered if this silent argument would have any end. He’d always tried not to replay the arguments. They weren’t usually moments worth re-living, not in full, picturesque quality anyhow. Still, he couldn’t remember marshmallows being the subject of that many of them.

Eventually Scott returned, pushing his way past the blonde pair to return to his deck chair. He dropped beside him four bags of marshmallows. Jeff would have had to be blind to miss the way his youngest’s eyes lit up like sparks.

“Scott..”

Virgil was already laughing at John’s warning tone.

“Give me!” Alan dived, reaching for his objective. Even Gordon, already with his hands full, still reached in copy of the youngest.

“No.” Wisely Scott chose that moment to chuck the items in John’s direction. Hmm, yes. That would have meant scrambling across _him_ to get to them, and now Virgil’s eyes had glazed over in a warning of his own. His middle child still perceived him as fragile. Not he supposed, that he blamed him, any of them for that matter. He was a dead man returned from the ashes. They were allowed to think he might crumble again.

“Ahh… Not fair! Gordon’s got a whole bag to himself.”

“No, Gordon is sharing that bag with you.”

“What?”

“ _Ssh_!” His eldest three chorused. He’d been tempted to do it himself if he was honest.

“Come on you two, sit down.”

“Yes Dad.” Alan agreed, promptly snatching the plastic container from Gordon, who let his discontent be known once more. But both blondes sat down on the empty deck chairs, hot chocolates in tow, and reached out to help themselves to blankets and pillows.

“So, I’ll ask again. What is this?” Gordon reached over, pulling the bag from Alan’s arms again.

“Hey!”

“Scott said to share.”

“Yes, he did. Now, Scott, John, care to tell us what we are doing?”

“Well, we were thinking we could catch up on some lost time.” John explained.

“How do we do that?” Alan asked, stealing the packet _again._ This was more like what he remembered.

“We talk.” Scott answered, “Or at least, I think that’s the only way.”

John nodded, and Jeff wondered now whether those two had put some serious planning into this, more than he knew for certain. They’d always been thick as thieves those too, real master planners when they wanted to be, so it should hardly be surprising. It should be more surprising that the three younger brothers hadn’t managed to catch on. Jeff remembered Gordon especially having his nose in everyone’s business in the years before he left.

“We talk about eight years?” It was strange to see Virgil looking so skeptical. Usually he was one of the first up for trying, or at least considering trying something.

Was that a testament to age, or caution? Knowing what he did, he assumed the latter.

“If there’s more marshmallows I’m in.”

“Gordon, you’ve finished the bag already?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“What did you expect, Scott?” John picked up one of the bags from beside him and chucked it in Alan’s direction. The youngest caught it with unwithheld glee. “You have to share them with Gordon.”

Alan slumped whilst Gordon seemed ten foot tall. They probably be bickering all evening now, Jeff supposed.

“Eat those slower, you’ll rot your teeth.”

This time, all of the boys chuckled.

“I think they’ve probably already done that, Dad.” Virgil delivered the verdict, “Scott wasn’t half as good as keeping them away from sugar as you were.”

“I knew it.” John insisted to which Scott merely scowled.

“And don’t do that.” He whacked at his eldest’s arm. “What if the wind changes?”

Alan nearly spat his mouthful of marshmallows back out to Gordon’s protests of ‘yuck!’

“That’s really not something you used to say, right Dad?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Scott used to say it all the time! It’s ridiculous.”

“It was quite the saying when I was a boy.”

Alan simply resumed stuffing his face.

Yes, this was quite the picture his boys had made up for him, indeed. All of them sat around here on deck chairs with hot chocolates and marshmallows and pillows and blankets. Yes, they made quite the scene.

And all of it was just to talk.

It was such a little thing. But it felt more like and explosion to him. It meant _everything_ to him.

He wasn’t sure what he’d expected when he came home, but he didn’t know whether it would be too late for chances like this. He’d thought the eight years he knew nothing of might be going to stay that way, that the boys might want them to stay silent. He’d wanted to ask, although hadn’t really been sure as to how. It wasn’t the easiest of subjects to broach though, considering… Considering he could have missed anything. He could have missed the biggest, most important things that would ever occur in his boy’s lives. How was he meant to just ask to catch up on those things? What sort of question or tone would be right? How was he supposed to know? He’d missed _eight_ years and that was no short feet of time.

“So what’s first then?” Virgil asked, almost quietly, like he’d been unsure whether now was a good time to remind everyone of the wider scale. “Eight years is hard to condense.”

“I think we should start with the obvious.” Scott replied and Jeff was unsure as to what subject that entailed. “International Rescue.”

“Don’t you boys think I’d rather hear about you?”

“But that’s just it, Dad. Really IR and us… are kinda two of the same now.” John replied. “It’s probably your quickest way to catch up.”

“And then you can ask questions to fill in the blanks!” If apples hitting your head were what caused though bright-spark moments, then a magical, invisible apple had just fallen upon Gordon. “I get it.”

“Ok, boys, let it try it then.”

He was willing to sit and listen. By this point, he was just about willing to sit and listen to anything and everything the boys might say, relevant or not.

“Tell me everything I’ve missed.” It was a tall order, but then so was rescuing him from the Oort Cloud. “What’s first?”

What was first. He supposed by the looks on the boys faces that it was a good question indeed.

“Um… how about the time Colonel Casey got suspended?”

“Oh yeah!” Alan agreed with the elder blonde. “That was a good one.”

“ _That_ was a terrible one.” John corrected. “And not a good tale to start with.”

“Yeah, that Janus guy was…” Virgil looked like he was struggling to find the right word. The shiver said enough, even if the middle child pulled the blanket further around himself as though to feign cold.

Meanwhile, Scott seemed to have been doing a little thinking of his own.

“How about when The Hood first reappeared?”

“He disappeared, did he?”

“He was very good at that sort of thing.”

“You don’t need to tell us!” Alan reminded the eldest.

“He went quiet for a while after you… disappeared,” John began. Jeff didn’t miss the near slip-up, but he didn’t comment either. It was going to happen, for a while. “Then came back – on our radar at least – about four years later.”

There was a whole four-year gap he was missing there. But, another that he was about to learn all of. That was something he had to take. There would be time again to learn about the other four.

“And what did he do?”

“Cause a load of Earthquakes.” Gordon recollected. “And made it look like… We thought for a moment you could be alive. He made it look like, well you get it.”

“Yes, son. Yes, I do.”

He could imagine that was the sort of trick his old adversary would pull.

“He was set on getting the Thunderbirds.” Virgil surmised.

“And he tried to blow up the Island!”

“What?” He couldn’t believe he was hearing that. His youngest sons were delivering him all the blows of the evening… admittedly with very limited context.

“That might be a story better saved.” John reasoned. “How about the time The Hood knocked out all the lights in London?”

“Yeah, that was a nightmare. If it wasn’t for Parker he would have got away as well, and we’d all be paying The Hood for our lights.” Virgil explained. “Grandma was really helpful. She reminded me to not always have too much faith in technology. I’d never had Thunderbird Two just shut down on me like that.”

“I know the feeling. That time Thunderbird One got stuck in the gravity well… I thought for sure I was going down, and that plane with me! I just couldn’t think of the best way out of it.”

“I’m just glad none of the grand rescue plans these days involving tipping Thunderbird Four. Really messes with my head that.”

“We don’t often do that, Gordon.” John

“Um, let me see, fixing the gravity well, getting to the power plant-”

“That was like skipping stones but with Four!” Alan seemed to enjoy that memory and Jeff could easily see the picture.

“Not fun, little brother. Ur, the hypercar-”

“Okay, Gordon, we get it.” Scott settled. “What about that underwater cavern rescue? With the little boy?”

“Oh yeah! We met this cool kid, Dad. He was really good at staying calm when they got trapped underground and his dad broke his leg and I couldn’t find them, so he made his own radio in order to ping my sonar. It was genius.”

“Sounds it, son.”

“Speaking of genius, what about those rescue scouts you met, Scott? In that forest fire, remember.” John prompted.

“Rescue Scouts? That was definitely one for you son.”

“Yeah, I taught them a couple things whilst we were stuck there. We got trapped in an old crab logger.”

“Oh, good invention, but a nasty piece of machinery to have working against you.”

“Tell me about it.”

“I got to flood the forest!”

“I got to protect the city!”

“Alan, that’s not as cool as getting to bring down a damn!”

The youngest all but huffed. Jeff could imagine there had been many of these moments.

“If we’re looking for ‘cool’ tales to tell Dad, then I think there’s only one at the top of the list.”

“Yeah, Virge, what’s that?”

“My birthday.”

Jeff was going to take a wild stab and assume it was a bad birthday judging by the way John sighed and Scott whacked his own head with a pillow. Very bad birthday maybe.

“I went all the way down into this cavern meaning to fix a breakdown, but I actually ended up helping to find a potential cure for an illness. Made my birthday.”

“Well, good for you son.”

“Yeah, it felt good.”

“And there was that time we went to the artic. We saw the Northern Lights.” Scott added.

“Yeah, it wasn’t the main reason for our beginning there, but it was nice.”

“Oh, oh, I’ve got cool!”

This was nice to see. Even if the boys were just prattling on, Jeff would have loved this sight, all of them together, merry and bright.

“Yeah Gordon?”

“Yeah! What about the time Alan and I went into space to rescue Buddy and Ellie!”

“Oh no.” John groaned.

Alan shivered. “I still have nightmares. I spent time in quarantine with you, Buddy and Ellie Series 1-12, and cheese puffs!”

“But it was awesome Dad. We had to tunnel down to get to them and then we saw alien life, they were a bit life fish I think-”

“Appropriate.”

“-and it was amazing! And then I got to rescue Buddy and Ellie again when they got lost in this jungle full of giant reptiles because of this growth serum which the GDF then took for safe keeping. And I got to do it all because Scott couldn’t land One, so he was useless-”

“ _Oh_ , thanks!”

“-and I was awesome ‘cause I acted as bait and then I got us an escape route and-”

“And _I_ got to be on ‘Be Extreme’.”

“Alright, Alan. We were on me.”

“And now we’re on me. So I got to rescue this guy, Brendan, from a mountain and he thought I was _awesome!_ And I got chased by a laser in space and I had to help land a ship on Mars-”

Jeff was struggling a little to keep up if he was being honest. His eldest three had probably heard all this before, but even they looked to be struggling a little with the barrage that was ever becoming a competition. The safest approach did seem to be to sit and listen. Yet Gordon, clearly not liking being left out, made himself a way back in.

“Well, I had to rescue that family from being crushed when they got their sub stuck and I went to the city of Atlantis – the actual one-“

“And I had to slingshot around the sun-”

“Yeah, well what about when I saved that survey team in the Mariana Trench, and then I had to try and escape the Mechanic and-”

“Got Thunderbird Four crushed!” Alan finished.

“Wait!” He interrupted there, because that sounded… well that sounded like it could have cost a lot more than it might have. Gordon was sitting before him, but still, that didn’t mean it couldn’t have gone a different way, or that there were things no longer visible to the eye. That word brought with it every horrendous sound he could imagine. “Crushed?”

Gordon merely waved him away, the way he never had in the past. Having someone fuss over him had been one of Gordon’s most loved successes; being waited on and feeling important… they were all things the blonde had loved, and Jeff wondered if this was a case of ‘didn’t want’ or a case of ‘hidden want’.

“Yeah, no big deal, Dad.”

“It _was_ a big deal, Gordon. You were laid up for _weeks_.”

“Virgil!”

“What? Dad asked what he missed, and _you_ brought it up.”

“Alan brought it up! _I_ was going to skip over it.”

“Boys, boys,” He calmed. Whether it was being done in thought of him, or in thought of themselves, he didn’t want to miss a single detail. Some of it might not be so good, some of it might be terrible. But he couldn’t live – certainly not here, with them – not knowing those details. It would take time to re-learn it all, but he had to know regardless. “I haven’t come back here to have details skipped over. I asked to hear everything I’d missed, and I mean _everything._ The good and the bad.”

“If you want good, how’s this – we had Kip Harris over for dinner!”

Even he knew who Kip Harris was. That man was another thing that had been around before his eight-year gap, and he was a man with quite a name for himself. Whilst he wanted to hear more of Gordon’s (what sounded very serious) accident, the aquanaut seemed pleased for the subject to have changed. So he filed that away for later, and let Virgil run away with what was clearly - for the middle child at least - a very big moment.

“ _The_ Kip Harris? However did that come around?”

“ _No_ , that story’s not so good!” Scott decided instead, to which Virgil’s shoulders fell. Jeff thought there was more to why that story wasn’t on the eldest’s ‘keen to tell’ list, but of course there would be time for him to find that out too, “It’s not a first night back on Earth story, no way, little brother.”

“Yeah,” Alan agreed heartily, “Oh, how about the one where we took Captain Taylor to Mars!”

And there was another moment which called out to him, shocked him, but really… didn’t shock him at all.

“Lee went back to Mars?”

“He’s still there.” John amended. “We check in with him every week. We’re now overdue to pick him up by about seven months. We even had to go back and help him with a rescue up there a little while back. He keeps claiming he’s _‘just helping the new colony start out’_ , but I get the feeling _he_ doesn’t want to come home anytime soon.”

That was just the sort of thing he could imagine from his long-term friend. He always did know how to run rings around everyone. It was just like him to find Earth unbefitting for a retirement location. Unlike him to give up space unless he had to. Jeff understood, better than anyone, he really did. He gave it up because he had a family, he had _this,_ but Lee had never settled, never found anyone who compared to the real love of his life, and the Captain had taken on Jeff’s family as the closest thing to his own. When the boys were young, Lee had been around whenever he could be of assistance (or was on Earth, of course). He wasn’t their Uncle, wasn’t even their blood, but that had never stopped him, Lucille, or even his Mother from including the man as such.

 _No,_ Lee living on Mars… _it doesn’t surprise me at all._

“Well, good for him.”

Scott nodded his agreement, stealing a marshmallow from the bag Gordon had snatched from the youngest.

“I think losing Alfie did leave a dent, even if he claims to be over it.”

“You mean Alpha base?”

“Yeah, we had to rescue him during a meteor shower and it kinda…”

Alan made an action to go along with the end of the eldest’s sentence, one Jeff interpreted to mean _‘boom’_ with many exclamation marks following.

“Ahh, well, can’t be helped. Though, I always thought it would be decommissioned before it was destroyed.”

“It was. Six months before.” John added, helpfully once again.

Shaking his head, Jeff _smiled_. Trust Lee to stay there until the end. If Jeff was being honest, that was exactly what he would have expected, and nothing less. The boys would probably have to get used to waiting some time to bring him back from Mars too, for he was likely to remain there until the end was in sight too. Maybe Jeff would even have to trek all the way back up there to visit _him_ if the man of the hour couldn’t be pulled back to Earth with the news of _his_ return. But then again, he wouldn’t mind seeing the face of Mars again himself.

_I wonder if my footprint is still there?_

“Well, at least Lee and I called that one right. Did he remember you boys?”

“Yeah!” Scott almost sounded like he was surprised at that. “Really well.”

“Although not our names…” Alan interjected. “And we even made him a list.”

That wasn’t surprising either. That was just Lee all over.

“Hmm, he never much liked reading.”

“Tell me about it.” Scott groaned. He’d coerced Brains into making said list into a digital database in the end, for all their sakes – they’d get around to that tale too eventually. “Oh yeah Dad, Colonel Casey said she’d fly out and see you when she got a moment.”

“She’s still tying up a few lose ends which allowed us to come and get you without too much suspicion.” John put in. “EOS is assisting her so it shouldn’t take too long.”

_EOS. There was that name, again._

He’d heard the boys refer to it on the homeward journey – talking about leaving Five in her care whilst John came down to Earth for the last few days break IR would ever get - but there were still gaps in his understanding, even if there had been a voice to answer to the name.

“Um, forgive the old man here, but who is EOS?”

“She’s one of those old bits of code John used to write to pass the time, and-” Virgil began.

“Except she’s totally evil!” Gordon butted in, to the sniggers of Alan. Scott was close enough to elbow Gordon and Alan received quite the glare. “What?”

“She’s not evil now.”

“Says you! She’s _mean_ to _me_.”

“Well I think I can tell who her least favourite brother is.” Jeff summed up from the clues. He was still trying to make sense of it within his jumbled mind. A piece of old code, named EOS, he’d got that far now as he turned to John, “And she’s your computer code?”

“Yes. An AI on Thunderbird Five. Some company and some extra assistance.”

“I see... But she was evil, you said Scott?”

“Ur…” John was making _‘don’t tell the full story now’_ eyes (or the closest interpretation you could get to that) across the way at him. It seemed to work. Jeff knew his boys well enough to see that, even _after_ eight years, and the boys were silly to think he wouldn’t still notice those conspiratorial glances. “She played a bit of a game with us when we first realised she existed. We had to convince her to work alongside us and not against us.”

“Scott, that misses out the whole bit about J-” Another elbow to the side and Gordon promptly received the message too. He always had been the least observant to the signs the eldest three would send his way, “Yeah, that will do!”

Virgil chuckled now.

“By the way dad, Gordon managed to complete something off his bucket list.”

“Oh?” It seemed to quickly be turning into a case of each brother for himself, except Gordon was definitely in the deep end, “What was that son?”

“He got to meet a Panda.”

“Really?”

“Ahh, it was no big deal!”

“No big deal?” Alan shouted, astounded, “Gordo you went on about it for weeks.”

“I did not.”

“You kinda did.” John concurred.

“And about getting to pilot Thunderbird Two.” Scott reminded.

“Yeah well…”

“Hang on, Virgil, you willing let Gordon pilot Two?”

“Rescue called for it. Otherwise it would have been a no.”

“Hey! I managed. I did rather well.”

“That’s one way of putting it I suppose.” Jeff surmised. He could still remember – rather vividly Gordon’s first few attempts at piloting anything which wasn’t underwater. “It didn’t crash land then?”

“Dad! Have some more faith.”

“Sorry Gordon, but I can only remember what I remember.”

“Which is probably the time you crashed the pod into the hangar!” Scott fell into his own version of hysterics before Gordon saw the perfect opportunity for payback and elbowed _him_. “Ow!”

“Remember who amongst us piloted the TV-21!” Gordon folded his arms, considering that a victory won.

Jeff, on the other hand, could feel the colour drain from his face, feel the way time seemed to stop around him, feel the eyes of his boys watching him.

“The TV-21..?”

“We found it.” John began, voice far calmer than his brothers could have brought themselves to be. “Well, The Hood sort of found it, but we used it in a rescue. It still worked fine.”

“That’s my ship! Built to last, a lot like me, ay?” He’d meant it in jest, but seemingly it was still too close to the boys for that… _eight years,_ he reminded himself again. If only he’d had the luxury sooner of being able to tell them he wasn’t dead. “Well, I imagine I’ll see it later. Can’t think where you would have stored it.”

He didn’t see it when they returned.

“Um… Dad…” Alan sounded far less sure than John had.

“Yes son?”

“The TV-21 it…” Scott wanted to be able to say it, but he couldn’t bring himself to. Without communication the eyes of his boys headed in the red head’s direction.

“The Mechanic stole it from us and overloaded the engines trying to get rid of Thunderbird Three.” John took over, although it was with the heaviest tone Jeff recollected his second son using. “It’s destroyed, Dad.”

“Oh.” It mattered, but it didn’t in the long run… not, _not_ really. It was sad, but he’d grieved for that ship long before. “Well, never mind, hmm? It was gone long before. Doesn’t change the fact it was still the first Thunderbird and we still have the memories.”

He would have liked to see it, _one more time_ though, for old times sake, he told himself.

“We have your hat though.” Virgil added, like that was a consolation prize. He knew to all of them back then though, that it had been.

“And we might have had the ship too if Ned hadn’t got in the way!” Gordon threw back in.

“It wasn’t all Ned’s fault.” Virgil reasoned.

“I don’t know, he did insist we take the vault too.” Scott contemplated to which John nodded his agreement.

He was running through his mental name bank here – and he was better with then than Lee – but he couldn’t remember them ever knowing nor meeting a Ned.

“Um… stupid question, I’m sure,” Jeff butted back in, for looking around his boys he wasn’t seeing any clues as to his answer. The five of them seemed to know exactly who and what they were talking about, like a clock, working perfectly without a single cog stalling. Well, he was now playing the role of said irritating cog. “Who is Ned?”

“Ned Tedford.”

“And Gladys. Don’t forget Gladys.” John added.

“And Gladys.” Gordon agreed.

“Who is G-”

“The man’s pot plant.” Virgil finished, having been more than ready for the question. Jeff felt his eyebrows raise. _A pot plant?_ Why ever- “Dad honestly, you’re better off _not_ asking.”

Was he that obvious now? Well, the boys had grown up, after all. Even if they hadn’t seen him in ages, he was still their Dad and they’d seen much more of the world now. Maybe they were better for having been a while without him, more challenged and enriched? Although, he could never wholly say that their thinking he was dead and his thinking he might never make it home were worth it for whatever the boys might have learnt. He would have rather been here for it all; all these whacky moments like rescuing a man and his pot plant. Potty as it sounded.

“I won’t then son. But you all seem to know him rather well.”

“Well I rescued him from a mine that was heading for the sun.”

“And I rescued him from an underwater clean-up machine heading for a ravine.”

“And I rescued him from an iridium vault which had been carried into space.”

“And I rescued him from a vault protecting a growth serum.”

“The one I told you about, Dad!”

“And I got him a job with the GDF.”

That was easily the odd one out, and he’d done a lot of those spotting books with the boys when they were kids.

“Wait, so you haven’t rescued him Virgil?”

“Not as such. I assisted.”

“Hey, maybe we need to get Virgil a Ned rescue?”

“Don’t say that, Gordon. He hasn’t needed to call us in a while, let’s keep it that way.” Scott voiced decisively.

“I’d rather answer his calls though, Scott, as opposed to a certain someone’s.”

That was a way-in if he’d ever heard a better one, “Oh? And who would that be John?”

“No, I don’t even say his name, Dad.”

John passed one of the bags of marshmallows to Virgil, who ripped it open happily whilst Scott picked up the missing piece to the conversation.

“Langstrom Fischler.”

“And he is?” He felt like he could know that name…

“An idiot?”

“John!”

“What? He wanted to send Monkey’s into space with his logo on their foreheads?”

“Ok, well I’m still not entirely sure-”

“And he created a station held up by hydrogen-filled balloons that got caught in a hurricane.”

“He couldn’t predict the hurricane John, even you know-”

“With no static dampeners, escape pods-”

“Ok, I get the drift.”

“And then he put a radio-controlled rocket onto a meteorite, nearly causing it to crash into Earth.”

“What? The idiot!”

“See Dad?” John grabbed a marshmallow for himself. Clearly they’d reached that time of the evening when even the green-eyed brother needed to run on sugar.

“And then he created these weather drones which malfunctioned-”

“Ok, ok, I think I get the picture. We’ll go with John’s summary.”

“Thank you.”

“Just make sure he and Scott don’t end up in the same room.”

“Why not Virgil?”

“Scott’s planning on punching him if he ever gets the chance.”

“Scott!”

“What? I could easily just find his address, Dad. I’m just waiting for a legitimate chance like a good guy.”

Jeff wasn’t quite sure what he should – or rather could – say to that. It was probably better to get far away from this course of conversation before it was too late.

“Don’t forget the other guy on that list!” Gordon reminded.

Jeff felt his jaw drop. How many people had made their way onto the devastating list of his son’s anger? He could easily imagine the reasons behind it, but still, Scott’s temper was a dangerous one to tamper with, and in the past had been hard to flare up. Growing up with four younger brothers did give you some type of resilience through practise.

Alan was already sniggering away again and their seemed to be another mutual understanding between his sons.

“Francois Lemare.” Virgil named, thank goodness, because Jeff knew it would have taken him hell of a while to guess.

Scott huffed, stealing another marshmallow.

“Now _he_ is the biggest idiot of them all.”

“He is..?”

“A daredevil explorer.”

“Who doesn’t listen.”

“To anyone.” Gordon added. “Not even Lady P.”

He supposed that should speak volumes to him also.

“The amount of times all of them have called us out, we should block them.”

“No, no, Scott, we should definitely do loyalty cards!” Alan insisted, and Jeff realised that this particular thread of conversation had been long running.

“They’d all be on gold by now, at the very least.” John worked out, he and Virgil sharing their marshmallows far more civilly than the eldest and youngest. _It provides entertainment_ , Jeff supposed. Besides, Virgil and John hardly ever clashed. They were both far too mellow for that.

“What about the villains club as well?” Alan suggested.

“Don’t start on them tonight.” Scott groaned.

“The Chaos Crew were pretty nasty though.”

“I still haven’t forgiven Havoc for stealing Thunderbird Three from me.”

“How did that come about?” Jeff couldn’t imagine Brains having slipped up on any security arrangements for those crafts.

“Dad, it’s too long a story.”

That translated to a story Alan wasn’t fussed to relive and Jeff would oblige by that again.

“I’m still bitter because they made it so Scott had to pilot Four.”

“That sounds like a story!” It did, because he knew Scott had never been one for the deeps. And Gordon never let his brother near Four’s remotes.

“It was after the original Thunderbird Four was crushed. We needed to gather the pieces to find you and so there was no other way but to use Four and Gordon couldn’t have piloted.”

“Didn’t mean I had to like it.”

“No. We never said that.” Virgil answered diplomatically. “But I think, going back on subject, Fuse and Havoc were a nightmare purely for their capabilities.”

“Yeah!” Alan agreed passionately, “The Hood chose good henchmen.”

“Bad for us, you mean, Alan.” Virgil corrected.

“They caused enough issues for the GDF, let alone us.”

“Don’t remind me about those Rescue Bots!” Gordon all but squealed. “I still say it was staring at me!”

“But you’ve got to admit, The Mechanic rivalled The Hood.”

“But, The Mechanic was only ever a villain _because_ of The Hood, Gordon,” John reminded, sensibly of course, “And, he came through for us in the end. We wouldn’t have Dad back if it wasn’t for him.”

“I thought Brains-”

“He didn’t build it. Not alone.” Scott informed him. Oh… Jeff had wondered who the new brain hanging around the house was. If he was a friend, then it was ok with him.

“Breaking him out of prison wasn’t easy though.”

“We should have just let him do it. He got The Hood out with ease after all.”

“We should have just let him get rid of The Hood. For a supposed villain, we shared the same aim as The Mechanic for longer than we knew.”

There was another story in Scott’s words, maybe not one which the boys would want to tell him right now, but another sadder story. A battle of villains it seemed, a battle of wills and motivations.

“We rescue, remember Scott?” John reminded, head resting on his newly placed pillow. His ears might have been listening, but his eyes had been elsewhere, until now at least. “You wouldn’t be the same man you are now if you hadn’t gone through with it and rescued him.”

“Hang on… did I hear that right? You rescued The Hood?”

Scott sighed. “Another _long_ story, Dad.”

“In fact, everything’s a long story, isn’t it?” Virgil asked as he grabbed another marshmallow. His brother agreed with him by way of a simple nod and Jeff supposed they had been out here sometime, avidly sharing years’ worth of memories. There were many more to go, but tonight might not be the night to finish them all. It would take some time to catch up on them all, yet if he’d learnt anything tonight, Jeff was sure it was that his boys were just as keen to fill him in as he was to listen.

_Yes, there would be more time indeed._

“Well, it sounds like you boys have had quite the set of adventures in my absence.”

“It’s been quite some time, Dad. What did you expect us to do? Nothing?”

“No. You did far more than I expected.”

“All we did was keep International Rescue going.”

 _Yes,_ maybe that was all the boys saw it as them doing. Jeff saw more. He saw a lot more, but maybe now wasn’t the time.

He chuckled, for once, not at his own jokes in solitude, but with his _family._

“Yes, and from what I’ve heard so far - you did an exceptional job.”

Five glowing smiles looked back at him.

Gordon broke the pattern by stuffing a marshmallow into his face.

“Omm- thanks Dad! As the best part of team, I take that for us all-”

“Who made you leader?”

“It was only age which made it you, Scotty!”

“And I regret that _you_ are the best part of this team.”

“Hey, hey, don’t bristle because of the facts, Virgil.”

“Bristle? I didn’t know you knew the word, Gordon.”

Alan chuckled and John received a glare of daggers in place of words.

“Well, I’ll have you know I- woah!”

Jeff wondered if he’d ever know how that was meant to end, as he watched Gordon disappear into the pool water, deck chair and all. Scott and Alan, who had previously been either side of him, looking pretty chuffed at the new divide. Virgil let his amusement be known with laughter that sounded like all the joy in the world. Alan seemed to rather like the fact that he’d been left victorious with the bag of marshmallows.

Jeff didn’t need to have been around for the past eight years to know how this next part was going to end, Gordon surfacing with a practised efficiency. If you were going to chuck anyone into the pool, he figured it should hardly be the aquanaut of the family, but hey, who was he? He was only Dad. Dad to five grown up sons-

“When I get my hands on you two-”

Scott and Alan tensed and flicked their worried gazes to him.

-and… _He smiled…_ they could manage without him, after all.

His boys had grown up – _well, sort of_ \- and they’d done a fine job of it all by themselves. And now, he had to had to play catch up. He’d thought it would be hard. That it wouldn’t feel or ever quite be the same. But it was surprisingly… right. There was nothing out of place amongst any of them.

They were a family.

And eight years between them were flying past like nothing as they played catch up; making up for lost time on their own little Island paradise and in their own little family way.

And that was always going to be enough.

The eight years he’d missed weren’t perfect.

But those to come sure would be.

And as Gordon scrabbled out of the pool, Scott and Alan (realising help was lacking) decided it was about time they moved – the youngest not letting go of the sugary treat. Virgil reached over, grabbing John’s phone from the red head’s pocket, whilst his second son just smiled and rested his head, leaving his younger brother to film the… catastrophe this was sure to turn into.

“Come back here!”

“No chance!”

There may or may not be more stories tonight, but this… _this_ was also enough, a story of its own. He’d missed all of these moments too; the little familial things.

And he wouldn’t miss any of this for the world of the Oort Cloud. Not one second.

* * *

He’d been gone for eight years.

Yet sitting here now, he felt like he hadn’t missed a minute.

**Author's Note:**

> Episodes referenced:
> 
> S1E23 – Chain of Command | S1E1&2 – Ring Of Fire | S1E26 – Legacy | S1E6 – Unplugged | S1E13 – Heavy Metal | S2E15 – Power Play | S2E25 – Hyperspeed | S1E19 – Extraction | S3E24 – Firebreak | S1E16 – Breakdown | S1E18 – Recharge | S2E3 – Deep Search | S2E17 – Attack of the Reptiles | S3E18 – Avalanche | S3E14&15 – Signals | S2E5 – Colony | S2E4 – City under the Sea | S2E8 – Lost Kingdom | S1E9 – Slingshot | S2E6&7 – Up from the Depths | S3E9 – Flame Out | S3E6 – Life Signs | S1E15 – Relic | S1E8 – EOS | S2E16 – Bolt from the Blue | S1E12 – Under Pressure | S3E5 – Growing Pains | S1E11 – Skyhook | S2E9 – Impact | S2E11 – Weather or Not | S1E21 – Comet Chasers | S3E1&2 – Chaos | S3E21 – Break Out | S2E26 – Brains VS Brawn
> 
> I think that’s all but let me know if you spot one I’ve missed! I tried to do them in appearance order as well, but some are mentioned a couple times, so I didn’t repeat them in the list.


End file.
